Another February 10th On Which To Reflect

Dear Ben,

Three years ago today, I was planning to go visit you at the hospice. But then I got called into work, so I did that instead. This was the day my soul mate died, and I never got to say goodbye.

The passing of time is all relative, I know. One year can seem like an eternity. Three years can seem like an eternity. For me, the past 1095 days have flown by – as time usually does for me –, and this is an interesting thing to ponder. Every February 10^th, I reflect on what has happened for me in this time, and who I have morphed into as a person now, due to your death – an extremely significant event in my life.

I’ve been told that people – such as you – come into our lives with a specific purpose, and then leave when they do – such as you did – because that’s what was meant to be. So the short four-and-a-half years that we spent together were because that was all that was meant to be. This is a thought that is difficult for me to grasp, because I don’t want your existence here to have only have been “meant to be” for a mere 41 years. I don’t want to reduce a person’s life to one little conclusion that is set in a box and sealed up, and then put aside. You were much more than that.

But who am I to judge what plans were in place for the next realm of your being? Maybe you are having a much better time doing whatever it is you are doing these days, and I actually wouldn’t doubt it, because I can believe that where ever you are and what ever you are doing, at least it is all without pain.

It’s extremely disconcerting for me to consider and remember how much pain you were in before when I knew you (and for two decades before that no less). I only experienced a short amount of time with you during it, compared to the many, many years prior that you suffered before our paths crossed. I only wish that I had known you long before so that I could have been there with you to help make it better. But I could always only do so much, anyway, and now I guess it’s no longer relevant at all, as all of those turbulent times in your life (and mine) are over now – by three years, and more, fading fast. When it’s happening, it seems like infinity; when it’s over, the time flies by fast.

In the past three years, I’ve been really trying to piece my life back together, because I feel it was really a mess when you left. It has taken this long for me to finally get to a point where I feel I am starting to have a balanced and organized life again. I crave simplicity these days, to counter the craziness of what my life was before. And with every day comes another day following, providing even further opportunity for improvement. So I look at each day with anticipation, knowing that if I try, I have myself, and only myself, to make my world and my existence even better. Your death certainly taught me that we only have so many days here on this Earth to make our lives what we want from them, and there is really no time to waste in the process!

I’ve always been interested in the mystery of the “afterlife”, and even have some books on this subject, which I have not read yet. Once, years ago, you – a very selective reader – took it upon yourself to pick a book off my shelf entitled “What Happens When We Die”, and commence reading it. I hope you found the answers you were looking for, as you knew it was something that would be relevant to yourself much sooner than later. You always said, anyways, that you weren’t afraid of dying, and neither am I. Because I don’t think of it so much as “dying” rather than just passing over to a different place – a place where I will see my Benjamin again. That won’t be a bad thing.

Today, a quote from one of your favorite singers comes to mind: “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger….” Thanks for making me stronger, Ben. That is the primary consideration that I will take away from this anniversary of ours this year.

Fun in the sun.